Beautiful Disaster
by Jukava
Summary: A cyclone is a large scale air mass that rotates around a strong centre of low atmospheric pressure. Cyclones are characterized by inward spiralling winds that rotate about a zone of low pressure. Sirius Black's return is definitely a cyclone...
1. Chapter 1 Prompt 4 The smell of tea

I do not own the Potterverse (sadly)

A/N This fic was written in '11 for a fest called Accio Prompts.

That's why at the start of each chapter there is a number and an expression. There will be 15 chapters.

This work was written in French (my mother tongue) and translated in English by myself with the tremendous help of lolitaweasley, Roman's sundial and AkaShika0306. Many thanks to them for their help!

Chapter 1: Prompt #4 - The Smell of Tea

Hermione woke up suddenly and sighed wearily.

It had been weeks, maybe even months now, that this had been happening, and she was starting to get sick of it. She fell asleep without any problem and, like clockwork, she would wake up abruptly in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason, and with no recollection whatsoever of what had awoken her.

She ran a hand over her face, dismissing with a weary gesture the curls that remained stuck on her moist forehead. Maybe it was just a nightmare that awakened her every night, but Merlin, she would really like to remember it and finally solve this problem!

After the war, she had had a hard time getting back to normal sleep. She was haunted by the memories of what she had experienced at Malfoy Manor, the screams heard during the Final Battle, pictures of the burials of the people she had known, loved… But Ron had helped her, supported her, and together they had driven away all the anxieties and the fears that had weighed her down. And since they had separated four years ago, it was the first time Hermione had so much trouble sleeping…

She grabbed her wand, placed under her pillow - a habit she had never abandoned, even ten years after the end of the war - and casted a Tempus charm. 2:32 am. Always the same time. Several nights a week, for what seemed like an eternity now, she woke with a start, always around 2:30 in the morning. What could this mean?

Hermione sighed heavily. It was useless to try to go back to sleep right now, and she knew that. Sleep was ruined for a few hours… and she knew that as soon as the first rays of sun appeared, she would fall asleep again. So, until then, she would have to occupy her mind, usually by reading a book in the library or drinking tea. She shuddered when her feet touched the cold floor, and, after a few moments of searching, she slipped her icy feet into her slippers.

She moved as quietly as she could into the silent house so as not to wake Harry, not to wake Harry, who claimed, when Hermione first moved in, that he was a rather light sleeper. She consciously avoided the creaky slats and entered the kitchen.

As always, she tried to make to make as little noise as possible and she prepared her tea. It was a memorised and private ritual in the heart of the night. Once it was ready, she sat down at the imposing oak table in the kitchen and quietly inhaled the aromas of her favourite tea.

She closed her eyes, letting the aroma gradually push back the cold that seemed to stick to her skin. First, the strawberry note, simple and sweet, which could have been too much if it was not counterbalanced by the discreet bitterness of rhubarb, whose fragrance had reached her nose now, almost hidden by the strawberry, yet equally present.

In a gesture that would have had her dentist parents screaming, she grabbed one of the big cubes of amber sugar that sat on the table - and that Ginny loved in her morning coffee - and let it fall lazily into her tea. She inhaled deeply again. The sugar always changed the scent dramatically, inhibiting the rhubarb and letting burst the subtle olfactory dominance of the wild strawberry.

Finally satisfied with the smell of the tea she had prepared, Hermione lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip of the hot liquid.

Perfect.

She felt her muscles gradually relax as her body was warmed by the heat of the tea. Her mind finally seemed to calm down. She inhaled languidly, focusing on the comfort that grew slowly in her. Peacefully.

In the quiet house, the sound of something thumping against the front door sounded like a gunshot. Hermione was suddenly standing with her wand in her hand and gasping in surprise as she rushed to the door. The war was perhaps far behind her, but she had not lost her reflexes. Or maybe it was living with an Auror…

Deciding to surprise anyone who had managed to find the door of the unplottable number 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione opened it quickly, wand up, with a Stupefy on the lips.

But her throat never emitted a sound as she was rendered speechless by what she saw: leaning against the door frame, visibly exhausted and barely standing, was Sirius Black.


	2. Chap 2 Prpt 3 theother side of the world

Many thanks to lolitaweasley, Roman's sundial and AkaShika0306 for their help for this chapter.

I hope my bad English had not given them to much work!

Chapter 2: Prompt #3 - The Other Side of the World

Hermione was speechless. She was dumbstruck. Astonished. Stunned. She could not move. Only the sounds of her and Sirius' breathing broke the silence. Panting. Wavering.

Suddenly, her mind finally seemed able to react and took in the full extent of Sirius' poor state. Merlin! He must be exhausted!

Forgetting all the basic rules of safety that required her to verify his identity Hermione rushed to his side and put an arm under his shoulders to support him before guiding him inside.

As they struggled down the narrow corridor, she felt him tense, and saw him open his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse moan escaped.

"Everything's fine, Sirius. You are home. I'm going to take care of you, I…" Suddenly remembering that her roommate was still sleeping peacefully two floors above while his godfather had just come back from the dead, Hermione yelled a shrill "HARRY!" while guiding Sirius to the living room where she placed him as comfortably as possible on the wide couch.

She conjured a large glass and cast an Aguamenti to fill it before handing it to Sirius. Seeing that he seemed to struggle to hold himself up, she realised with concern that he was too weak to do it on his own. She could not help but wonder how he managed to get to Grimmauld Place in this state. Where did he come from? Her curiosity seemed to rise as panic receded.

Hermione helped him drink a few sips without pushing more to avoid making him ill. His body must have been deprived during the time he was… Dead? She really didn't know, but she would, she was sure of that.

But what was Harry doing? His room wasn't on the other side of the world! He was always bragging about being the youngest Deputy Director of the Auror's Department yet he was sound asleep, oblivious to what was happening in his own home! He was constantly boasting that he was "Always on the alert". She was never going to let him live this one down.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she heard rushed footsteps coming down the stairs and sighed with relief.

Sirius had apparently heard the cavalcade too since she felt him stretch again and try to get up. She put a hand under his back and slid a cushion behind him as Harry stepped through the door, wand in hand, jaw clenched, eyes hard. Auror Potter was showing his most professional attitude.

Quickly, Harry scanned the room and Hermione saw the tension gradually give way to amazement on his features. His wand still clenched, he stared at his godfather for what seemed like an eternity before stammering painfully, "But that… What… But it's not possible…"

As the words escaped his lips, his eyes fogged, but suddenly, something seemed to change within him, and he turned to scowl at Hermione. "It's absolutely not funny, Hermione!" Harry barked, glaring at his friend, who was staring at him, flabbergasted at being accused of something she would never even have thought of. "I do not know who convinced you to play this disgusting prank and-"

She jumped up, facing Harry, pissed beyond belief that he would think her capable of such a cruel prank. She opened her mouth ready to defend herself when a hoarse voice from lack of use rose: "You forgot the mirror, Harry…"

Those few words seemed to sweep away all the bitterness Harry was feeling. He stared at Hermione, wide-eyed, visibly skeptical, stammering: "It's him… It's Sirius… I… Hermione, it's Sirius, it's…"

Suddenly speechless, Harry let a loud sob escape before letting himself fall to the ground next to the couch and took Sirius in his arms. He was shedding tears that he did not even want to hold back as they came from the depths of his soul. 

Sirius said nothing else, just stared at Harry as he realized this was real, not a cruel joke. And when his godson threw himself against him, holding him tight, as if to prevent him from disappearing again, he could do nothing but hug him back, his own tears leaving trails in the gray dust that covered his cheeks.


	3. Chap 3 prompt 11: Toy lead soldiers

Many thanks to lolitaweasley, Roman's sundial and AkaShika0306 for their help for this chapter.

Their correcting and editing skills are a blessing !

Chapter Three: Prompt #11 - Toy Lead Soldiers

Sirius' return among the living happened neither without emotions nor questions nor tears. As soon as Hermione and Harry contacted the former members of the Order of the Phoenix to tell them of his sudden and unexplained return, it triggered a whirlwind none of them could have measured the extent of.

Even though Kingsley had ordered them not to push their questions too far out of respect for Sirius, who had already suffered so much, the Ministry's Unspeakables investigated, asking a thousand questions about what had led to his return to life.

Overwrought to see his godfather pressured with unceasing waves of questions while he was still weak from his extended stay in no-one-knows-where, Harry put his foot down, using all his influence as "The Boy Who Lived" to have Sirius be left alone, gaining the wrath of a good part of the Department of Mysteries' staff in the process. They only saw Sirius as an experiment they would have liked to examine from every angle (or even dissect, for some of them).

In addition to the Unspeakables and all the Ministry's officials, Sirius had to face those who had been his friends, his loved ones who were very happy to see that the war had not destroyed everything. That fate, by a whim no one understood, had given one of them back. They'd shake his hand, clap his back, hug him at the slightest pretext, jostling him with questions to which he had no answers.

But during this hubbub, this storm, no one answered Sirius' questions, no one seemed to listen to him when he asked where Remus was, and why Dumbledore had not yet come to see him. After his reunion with Harry, Hermione had vaguely mentioned that time had passed since the victory over Voldemort, but no one had explained to him what had really happened.  
A few days after his miraculous return, and when at last the Unspeakables had left him in peace - despite themselves - Harry, helped by Andromeda, took the bull by the horns and began the heavy burden of telling Sirius all the events that had taken place since his passing: Dumbledore's death, the truth about Regulus' death, the true allegiance of Snape, the Final Battle, everything was talked about, without taboos nor pretence.

Sirius entered a mad rage when Harry told him the circumstances of Dumbledore's death, but had to reign in his temper to be able to know the end of the story. His brother's reversal and his vain attempt to defeat Voldemort suddenly plunged him into a daze that he seemed unable to get out of, listening to Harry, wide-eyed, not seeming to realize that all of this was true. That his little Slytherin brother had died fighting, it seemed to him impossible, unthinkable.

And then there was the story of the Horcrux hunt, the dragon-headed escape from Gringotts (which snatched an incredulous smile from Sirius), and finally the Battle of Hogwarts. It was Andromeda, who was taking care of Teddy that day and only knew about the events by hearsay, who told Sirius about the casualties. Even so many years later, Harry could not bring himself to speak the names of the dead. All this was still too much in his memory.

As Andromeda pronounced the names of those who had sacrificed their lives to end Voldemort, Sirius' face seemed to waxen. Moody's death seemed to surprise him. That of Fred saddened him and when Andromeda came to her daughter's own name, Sirius took her hand, squeezing it tightly in his, sharing her emotion. but as she said Remus' name, he dropped her hand as if he had been burned. He stood up suddenly, jaw clenched and politely excused himself in a blank voice before leaving the room.

Hermione waited patiently for the reunion to end. She knew it would not be easy for anyone. She had thought to offer Harry help, but it was too intimate for her to be there when they would tell Sirius all that happened after his disappearance. So, she left them together and waited in the library, sifting through a book she did not care about, just for to give herself some countenance.

She heard a door on the ground floor and sighed. It was done. Sirius knew everything. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she poked her head through the crack of the door and saw Sirius pass by. Worried, she watched him as he continued to climb to the upper floor.

As he reached Regulus' room, Hermione saw him pause for a moment before entering the room and closing the door behind him.

Hermione stood on the landing of the first floor, unsure what to do. Should she go down to Harry to warn him that Sirius was in Regulus' room? Should she go see for herself if Sirius was fine? She did not know how to react anymore.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked away from Regulus' door, only to find herself face to face with a Harry whose red eyes betrayed the painful moments he just went through.

"Sirius went to Regulus' room. She whispered, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as a sign of support.

"Thanks, Hermione, I'll-" But before Harry could say anything, a huge crash startled them and they both rushed to Regulus' room.

Sounds of shattered glass, broken wood, and torn tapestries reached them as they pounded on the door, urging Sirius to open up… The faint fear filled them that he might turn his rage against himself and do something thoughtless.

Suddenly there was an absolute silence. This was even more distressing than the noises that preceded it.

Hermione pushed Harry aside and cast a spell that opened the door with a crash.

They entered, worried, to a strange silence. As the dust from Sirius' crisis finally settled, Hermione saw him, laying in the corner of the room, his back against the wall, curled up on himself, his arms around his knees, as if floored by the pain.

With a gesture, she pointed him out to Harry, motioning for him to approach. Harry was the only one in that moment who could show Sirius that he was not alone with his pain.

Harry approached and crouched down beside him, in the same way he would have approached a wounded animal. He reached down slowly and put a hesitant hand on his godfather's shoulder, but Sirius did not react.  
As she was about to leave them alone, Hermione noticed in the darkness of the room a dark liquid dripping from Sirius' closed fist and dripping lazily into the dust covering the floor.

Without going too fast so not to frighten Sirius, she approached him and took hold of his closed fist to heal the wound he had made. He did not struggle when she drew his hand to her and opened it gently. She discovered a toy lead soldier that must have belonged to his brother in the hollow of his tight fist. Sirius had squeezed it so hard that it had been embedded in his flesh.


	4. Chapter 4 Prompt Playing with fire

Many thanks to lolitaweasley, Roman's sundial and AkaShika0306 for their wonderful help !

Chapter Four: Prompt #12 - Playing With Fire

After he'd destroyed everything in his brother's room, Sirius shut himself up in his own room and refused to leave.

Kingsley and Arthur visited him regularly. Even Molly came to see him, though their relationship before Sirius' fall behind the Veil hadn't been friendly. But her maternal instinct dictated that she should try to reach him. Sirius was suffering and her matriarchal heart could not stand it. She went to Grimmauld Place once or twice a week, bringing some of her most delicious secret recipes with her and leaving them on a tray on Sirius' nightstand.

He barely touched it. He ignored it like he did with all the food that was brought to him. At least it made Molly felt a little less useless, as if attempting to feed him was already helping Sirius get better.

Since Harry and Andromeda had told him everything that had happened since his death, he had been silent. No one managed to get a word out of him, not even Harry. He stayed in his room all the time, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling angrily, as if he held some answer to the mysteries of life.

He barely turned his gaze away from the ceiling when someone entered the room, except for when it was Harry. Then he would stare at him for a long time with a look filled with bitter nostalgia. The mute suffering was almost unbearable to Harry.

At Harry's request, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had agreed to keep Sirius company to prevent him from being alone all-day long. Everyone made an effort and rearranged their schedules, to spend time with Sirius even if he remained impassive.

Ginny told him stories about her training and her tours with the Harpies. She described games with passion and exaggerated gestures, but Sirius never looked at her as he stubbornly continued to stare at the ceiling.

Ron told him about the flourishing joke shop and his recent integration into the Aurors. He explained to Sirius that since Angelina was moving in with George and he felt he was no longer indispensable, to his brother nor to the shop. George no longer needed him, and he was grateful for that.

Hermione, however, had decided on a different approach. Indeed, she was also telling her day-to-day activities to Sirius, but unlike Ginny or Ron she was trying to provoke a reaction from Sirius. She preferred to broach topics that could make him smile or annoy him. Anything would have been good if it meant he finally came out of his unbearable lethargy.

She had started softly, talking about all the creatures she had visited many times to create bridges between the Wizarding Community and the beings who had been so unjustly treated in the past. She hoped that the stories of her disappointments with the centaurs because of their more than cryptic words would amuse Sirius, but he didn't even react. She even told him the time she had fallen fully clothed in a frozen lake in the depths of Connemara while she was talking to a merperson officer, but that did not even induce a smile from him.

She then tried to talk to him about Hippogriffs. Since he had lived with Buckbeak for two years, she hoped it would spark an interest him… But nothing, not even a stir. Only his steady breathing and blinking eyelids proved he was still alive.

Still, Hermione was sure that he would be glad that she had managed to have Hippogriffs designated as intelligent creatures when they had until then been considered only as dangerous pets.

After several weeks, she resolved to tackle one of her most important fights: the liberation of the house elves. She had always carefully avoided talking about the work she had done for the werewolves so as not to remind Sirius that he had lost in Remus the only friend he had left from his youth. So, Hermione was left with the elves as the only subject not already covered expansively… and knowing Sirius' positions on the subject, she really doubted it would cause a reaction from him.

She told him about Dobby and the way he had opened the way for all the house elves to be considered free even if their wages were more symbolic than profitable. And progressively, without even noticing, she came to talk about Kreacher.

Hardly had the name of the Black house elf passed her lips than she saw Sirius leap up. Before she could even react, he grabbed her arms, squeezing them painfully. She was surprised at his strength despite his seeming weakness and weeks of immobility. But she did not have time to think. Despite her protests of incomprehension and pain, he pulled her to the door with force. His breath was ragged, as if he was struggling not to explode.

He opened the door sharply, and firmly pushed Hermione out of the room. She almost fell to the ground. She turned to look at him, amazed at the violence he had just shown, but found herself face to face with the door that he had slammed. Because of his force, Hermione felt the floor vibrate.


	5. Chapter 5 Prompt 1 I wish I

A/N Again, I would like to thank Roman's sundial and AkaShika0306for their tremendous help.

Chapter 5: Prompt #1 - I wish I…

Hermione didn't tell anyone about how Sirius had kicked her out of his room. She didn't really know why. Perhaps she was ashamed to have been so insensitive and to have talked about Kreacher rather inconsiderately?

She knew of Sirius' fierce hatred of his house elf, certainly rekindled by the fact that Harry had revealed to him that it was Kreacher who had misled him, pushing him to go to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius that fateful night…

Or maybe she was afraid that Harry would ask her about the bruises, perfect replicas of Sirius' hands, which now marked her arms? She was sure Sirius didn't intend nor realized that he was hurting her when he put her out, so why worry Harry?

In order not to arouse Harry's curiosity, she decided to wear long-sleeved t-shirts until the bruises faded and, to avoid having to keep Sirius company, she pretended to be preoccupied with extra work and immersed herself in it. She feared that her presence with Sirius would question the slight progress he seemed to have made since he had taken against her, so she avoided him as best she could.

But as time went on and Sirius' attitude did not seem to change, Hermione's sense of unease gradually turned into anger at him.

She knew he had come out of his room again. She had heard him wander through Grimmauld Place in the dead of the night, but he always spent his days locked inside, as if to better preserve his loneliness.

She knew deep down that he was being dragged into as spiral of depression and self-pitying that she knew only too well to have come so close to fall into after the war…

But she couldn't stand it. Yes, life had been particularly cruel to him, taking away loved one after another, robbing him of his youthful years, locking him behind the bars of Azkaban, with Dementors and lunatics as his only company. But as horrible as it could be, he was still alive, and that was what Sirius had to hold on to. And he was _not_ going to be able to heal by pushing away all those who still loved him.

He seemed to wallow in his misfortune and thrived in his uneasiness. If Hermione found a time of despondency and mourning, more than legitimate, even necessary, months spent locked in his room to mope were more than enough. She was at the end of her patience and was seriously thinking of moving out so she would not have to endure the sight of him like this. It wrung her heart.

She carefully avoided talking to Harry, who, too happy to have found the only family figure he had ever known, forgave Sirius for all the errors of his temperament. He was there, he was alive, and that was all that mattered to Harry.

Hermione had realized that Sirius was coming down to the kitchen when he finally opened his door, probably to eat (as even Molly had stopped trying to bring him food), but definitely to drink. That she knew was certain, as she had found out by stumbling one morning on a bottle of Firewhiskey that had been forgotten on the ground.

One particular night, as she woke up suddenly at exactly 2:30, she decided she had enough. Since Sirius had started coming out of his room at night, she had no longer allowed herself to go to the kitchen to drink a tea before trying to get back to sleep. All this to avoid him, fearing to see him retreat into his shell again. But it had been too long now, and tonight she was cold, and longing for a hot tea prepared just the way she loved it. She decided to ignore Sirius altogether. If he did not want to see her, he would have to slip away.

Hermione slipped a thick dressing gown over her camisole and shorts and went to the kitchen. She had been afraid of finding Sirius drunk, or doing what he could to become so, but it was clear that he looked totally sober when she entered the room. He was sitting at the imposing oak table, staring into his glass of Firewhiskey. He twirled it between his fingers, as if hypnotized by the swirls he created in the amber liquid.

Listening only to her desire to drink a tea, Hermione entered the kitchen and, with a flick of her wand, brought the kettle to her, filled it with water, and heated it. Sirius did not move. It was as if he did not see her, did not hear her. She sighed, torn between exhaustion and exasperation.

Many times, since Sirius' return, she had wondered what would have been her reaction if she had had to endure what he had gone through, and she never managed to find an answer. Would she be as bitter, sour, and sad as he was? Or, on the contrary, would she celebrate life by wanting to enjoy each of its pleasures, in an attempt to make up for lost time?

"Good evening, Sirius," she murmured politely, not waiting nor hoping for an answer.

Of course, he did not answer. His gaze still focused on his glass of Firewhisky, he was alone in his world. Hermione finished preparing her tea and hesitated a moment to leave the kitchen and drink it in the drawing room or in the library. Finally, she decided to sit in front of Sirius. Maybe he would decide to talk to her, to open up a little…

She lazily sipped her hot tea, waiting for a word from Sirius, a gesture that at least would show that he realized she was there, just inches away from him, but nothing came. She watched for signs of sleep, but again she had to resign herself. She waited. A long time. She waited so long and she watched as the night became darker and darker, reaching that point, just before the start of the dawn, when one had the impression that the darkness would never dissipate.

And suddenly, it was as if some dam broke in her. As if the calm, the restraint she always imposed to herself, were suddenly too heavy to bear. She stood up abruptly, and extending her arm sent Sirius' glass smashing on the floor.

Immediately he stood up and, as if Hermione's obvious anger was invisible to him, he walked to the door to leave

But she wouldn't have any of it, she was beyond furious and in a few quick, nervous steps, Hermione was in front of him, her eyes flashing with fury. She was right in front of Sirius, but he still did not seem to see her and passed her by as if she did not exist.

Beside herself, she grabbed her wand and cast a Petrifying Jinx to stop him. Sirius fell to the ground, stiff as a statue, but still able to see and hear.

"I didn't want to get to this, Sirius, but you forced me to do it!" she whisper-yelled, crouching to be closer to him. She felt a little stupid to have come to these ends to have him listen to her, but she needed that. "I know I can't understand what you live and what you go through, but you have to get a hold of yourself. It's been _months_ since you came back, and you haven't hardly left your _room_ , never mind this _house_! You don't talk to anyone, you don't want to see anyone… It's not healthy, Sirius. You can't go on living like that, ignoring those around you. You're hurting yourself… You're hurting _Harry_." She finished and let out her breath, suddenly relieved to have been able to speak her mind.

That's it, she did it. She had said everything that had been weighing her heart down. Damn the consequences. She was ready to face his ire. Anything rather than this indifference mixed with sadness and anger and depression.

Hermione stood up, taking off her dressing gown as she was suddenly hot because of her scalding tea and that bout of wrath. With a wave of her wand, and preparing for the worst, she launched a _Finite_ to free Sirius. In a blink he was standing, and in a few steps, he came to stand before Hermione, who raised her chin, facing him.

"When will you understand and leave me alone?" he roared.

She startled. The sound of his voice, which she had not heard for so long, seemed almost unreal to her, but she wasn't deterred, she was not going to show any weakness.

"Leave you alone? Let you kill yourself slowly with this Firewhiskey, you mean? Or rather let you mope in your room all day long?" she retorted dryly.

"So what?! Why do you even care? I do what I want, Hermione. It's my life! Mine! Can you hear that? If I want spend it between the four walls of this house, with my empty bottles of Firewhiskey, until death ensues, I'll do it! Do you understand that? You don't have a say in this!"

"Damn it! You're so selfish! Don't you realize that life has given you a second chance and that you are ruining everything?" Hermione stepped away from him. She knew she was on the verge of slapping him and preferred to avoid it.

"Second chance? Stop talking about things you know nothing about, Hermione!" he said. "Second chance for what? All my friends, everyone I knew is dead! What else do you want me to do?"

"Live!" she yelled, beside herself now with rage. "If you took a moment to stop wallowing in self-pity and looked around you, you would see it! There are _so many_ people who care about you! And you act like you're alone in the world! You are such an egoist!" 

In three steps, he was close to her again, looking down at her from his towering height. But if she was impressed, Hermione did not let it show. She crossed her arms over her chest, standing her ground.

"You really _do_ think you know everything, huh? You spoiled brat!" Sirius sputtered bitterly. 

"Don't call me that!" she gasped, uncrossing her arms sharply. Immediately, Sirius's eyes rested on the marks, yellowed but still visible on the arms of the young woman. He understood immediately and paled visibly before moving back to the door, muttering under his breath something that Hermione didn't understand. "Don't go away, you coward!" She wasn't going to let him get away with it, even if she had to provoke him again and again.

He ignored her, continuing to move toward the door. Moving as fast as she could, she caught him before he reached the handle, grabbing his arm firmly and forcing him to turn to her.

Burning with anger, his face only inches from Hermione's, Sirius screamed, "Leave me alone! Let me die!"

She was paralyzed. She had never seen him like that. She had already seen him angry, yes, years ago. Annoyed too, often by her she had to admit, but she had never seen that incendiary rage in Sirius' eyes. It was hypnotizing. And worst of all, it was against himself that this unquenchable hatred was directed.

Suddenly drained, Sirius stopped. He stood, totally motionless, staring away at something no one else could see. He breathed heavily, as if he had been running for a long time and was trying to catch his breath.

He was ashamed. He loathed himself. He would have been better to have never been born than to live this miserable life. He was a burden for everyone. He had been a mistake since his birth, he had been only disappointment…

He suddenly felt two hands rest on his chest and slide along his collarbone before wrapping around his neck. He then felt the warmth of a body approaching and he could not hold back a sigh when Hermione pressed against him in a comforting embrace, giving him the human warmth that he had been denied for so long. They stayed like that for a long time, Sirius' face hidden in Hermione's hair, reveling in her calm.

Quietly breaking the silence but not detaching herself from him for a moment, Hermione whispered in Sirius' ear, "I will _not_ let you destroy yourself." She held him back when he tried to step aside. "And I know you did not want to hurt me." she added, as if to absolve him of the bruises he had inflicted upon her.

"Why am I here Hermione?" he asked, finally asking the question that weighed on him so much.

"I don't know. Trelawney would tell you it's your destiny. That the stars or the tea leaves had predicted it…" she joked, in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"The truth is, I don't know. I don't know why Harry saw you when he used the Resurrection Stone. I don't know how or why you came back." She sighed. "But what I'm sure of is that everyone who loves you is happy that you're alive."

He made a strange snort somewhere between sad and mocking, and whispered, "I wish I had died for James and Lily."


	6. Chapter 6 prompt books lie

A/N Huge thanks to the wonderful Roman's sundial and AkaShika0306 for betareading this chapter!

Chapter 6: Prompt #14 - The Books Lie

Sirius' confession came as a shock to Hermione. She thought that even if she couldn't understand what Sirius went through, she could at least imagine, because she, too, had lost people she cherished during the war. But what he had told her had made her realize that she could never grasp the magnitude of what he had felt.

She knew too well the feeling of guilt he felt, to have felt something akin to it herself after the Battle of Hogwarts. Wondering what she had done to come out alive when more experienced wizards had lost their lives… It was a latent feeling, which always quarrelled with the joy of finally surviving. But it was nothing like the shame, the disgust of himself that emanated from Sirius.

She had held him against her for a long time, as if hugging him was the only way to prevent him from sliding into the hell he was condemning himself to.

When they separated, each taking the direction of their own room, Hermione laid in bed for a long time thinking of the best way to help him.

Her first action was to take a paid leave. Glimpses of her time wouldn't help Sirius to understand how much those around him cared about him. She therefore took two weeks of paid leave, which she obtained immediately. This was the first time she had expressed the desire to take a vacation for more than a few days, the Director of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would have been an idiot to deny this request to his best asset.

Armed with good resolutions and free time, it was with a big smile on her face that Hermione returned that evening to Grimmauld Place. The silence was complete: Harry was certainly not back from the Ministry yet, since she had heard during the day that the Auror Office had made a huge catch, and Ginny was currently touring France with the Harpies. She suddenly realized that Sirius had to spend most of the day by himself now that everybody had to resume their lives.

This thought comforted her in her idea: Sirius needed to be entertained, and with two weeks in front of her, she was sure she could change his spirits. She quickly climbed the stairs to Sirius' room but stopped abruptly on the first floor, when she noticed that the library's door was ajar.

As discreetly as possible, she poked her head into the opening and discovered a sight that left her speechless. There, in her cosy chair - the one, so comfortable, whose seat she had shaped by hours of reading by the fireside - was Sirius Black. Slumped, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet crossed on the coffee table, he was reading quietly. Hermione could not repress a relieved smile at the thought that he was finally out of his room. It was a step in the right direction. And she hoped to help him to make a multitude of others.

She signaled her presence with a polite throat clearing and immediately Sirius looked up at her. Hermione was hesitant, a little embarrassed as well - maybe Sirius was afraid she might mention the confidences he had made her the night before - but she just smiled at him and approached him with a decided step, before planting herself in front of him, fists on her hips, but her smile still firmly attached to her lips.

"Mr. Black, I think you're sitting in my armchair!" she said to him in a tone filled with fake reproach.

Sirius looked surprised for a moment, but one of the corners of his mouth shuddered in a slight attempt of a smile, which comforted Hermione in her idea: he needed lightness. He needed to get away from all the drama. "Was your name written on it, Miss Granger? I didn't notice…" he answered nonchalantly, without the slightest inclination to stand up and move.

"My name may not be, but you must have noticed that it was not comfortable to you. Because it took me a long time to model it so that it is pleasant only to me!" she said pompously as she dropped down beside Sirius in the wide seat of the armchair.

Sirius looked astonished for a moment but said nothing. Visibly amused, Hermione grabbed hold of the book he was holding: "Hermione Granger: Saint or Succubus?" He saw Hermione's face scowling a moment before she burst out laughing.

"Merlin! I had forgotten of the very existence of this filth!" Pivoting somehow to turn to Sirius - the seat of the armchair may have been wide, but it wasn't designed for two adults - Hermione added, "So what did you learn about me?"

Sirius looked at her with wide eyes. He couldn't believe that Hermione had changed so much. He remembered an authoritative and over-confident girl, who spoke only of rules and regulations, and was discovering a warm, generous young woman who knew how to laugh and have fun.

"I learned that _apparently_ , you were collecting Quidditch players, Miss Granger," he replied, feigning outrage. He knew Skeeter well and knew that what she was writing was a bunch of stories soaked in vitriol, but his curiosity had been stirred when he had discovered this book, as if hidden, under one of the library's armchairs. "And that you were a thief in primary school!"

Hermione burst out laughing, her head thrown back, her entire white throat exposed. Sirius couldn't help himself and laughed too, less frankly, almost as if he was getting used to that feeling again, but the laughter was there. From what he had read so far, Skeeter's book was really a vain attempt to cover Hermione in mud.

"Books lie, Sirius! I never stole anything in primary school…" she said, still smiling, getting up, motioning for him to follow her. "I'm going to prepare dinner, would you help me, please?"

Without even thinking about it, Sirius followed suit, and it was only on the doorstep of the library that he realized that she had denied only one of his assertions. Fixing Hermione, who was already descending the stairs, he said, "And what about the Quidditch players?" But only a laugh answered him.


	7. Chapter 7 prompt forgotten words

A/N Beta love to the great Roman's sundial!

Chapter 7: Prompt #9 - Forgotten Words

He always hurt those who cared about him.

It had started with his parents, whom he had disappointed, betrayed, and yet he had been so proud of it. So glad not to be like them, to be a Gryffindor, to be free.

Then there was James. The one who had become his brother, the better half of himself. The brother he had led to certain death just on a whim, a bluff, like a risky shot at poker. "Nobody will think that you could have chosen Wormtail as the Secret Keeper, Prongs! I'm sure of it!"

Flippancy that still left a bitter taste because it had killed James and Lily… and Harry's childhood.

He had even failed Remus, who had so willingly forgiven him… Poor Remus, so quick to forget all the wrongs done to him as long as one remained his friend… Sirius himself had no more indulgence towards the jerk he had been when he had allowed Snape, out of pure hatred and vengeance, to discover the secret he had sworn never to reveal. And now that Remus was dead, who would absolve Sirius of the sins he had committed?

He had failed Regulus, too. Would he be dead if Sirius had been less blind? If he had realized that his brother was trying to stand alone against Voldemort's madness? Or if he had just opened his arms when they were both at Hogwarts instead of rejecting him because he thought he was so similar to their parents?

Finally, there was Harry, his godson, whom he had promised to always care for, to watch over him. What a failure! He had been in his life for barely four years. That seemed ridiculous compared to the twenty-four years that Harry had lived without him. What was Sirius' purpose now?

Then there were the others, who all seemed to be waiting for him. Andromeda who kept babbling that he had to come and see Teddy. Why couldn't she understand that he just couldn't, that the very idea of looking in the eyes of Moony's son was so intolerable to him?

The Weasleys were the worst. He had never really got along with Molly, and now she was talking to him like one of her children… Why? Why did she even bother? And Arthur, who was trying to renew the friendly relationship they had before… Before the Accident, as Harry called what had happened in the Department of Mysteries.

But nothing was as before. Twelve years had passed without him. The war was over. And like everything else, he had failed. He had not even been there to stand beside the Order in the last fight. It was Molly Weasley - how ironic! - who had put an end to the madness of Bellatrix.  
He hated himself so much.

But yet, he could not bring himself to take his life. It would be giving up Harry again, cowardly. He could not do that to him. So, he clung to life, neither quite alive, nor quite dead. He was little more than a ghost.

He spent his days in the dark, hoping that everyone would eventually forget him and that his life could finally end without anyone noticing. Not even Harry.  
But that was without counting on the naive hope his godson had of distracting him. Everyone had come to visit him. Even Hermione. When he was here before, he had thought she couldn't stand him. Like he did with the others, he ignored her. But she hadn't quit like Ron or Ginny who didn't know anymore what to tell him…

Until the day she had pronounced that name. Kreacher. The one he had hitherto forgotten. Harry had only mentioned Kreacher once in his story, as if the name was taboo. In the blink of an eye, he was beside himself and threw her out.

A few nights later, worn out by his insomnia, he found himself in the kitchen with her. She had harassed him. She was worse than a Grindylow. He had thought that evicting her from his room would have been enough, but she had to disturb him in the nocturnal quietness of the kitchen… And he had lost control. Again.

Suddenly, when he saw on her arms the remains of the bruises he had inflicted her, his mind had betrayed him, his nerves had let go, and he had bared his soul in front of her. The depths of his mind completely unveiled in front of Hermione, like the most pathetic of all. He was disgusted to have basked in the warmth that she offered him and confessed to her what weighed him down so much.

To his own astonishment, for the first time since he'd appeared on the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place on that fateful night everything seemed clear to him the day after he told so much to Hermione. He knew now what he had to do: give her exactly what she expected of him.

He knew from the stories she had told him that she had a thing for lost causes: free the house elves, recognize the intelligence of centaurs… and prevent the former prisoner from withering away. What was it to her? One more mission, and nothing else.

So, he had decided to give her exactly what she wanted from him. He would put on a mask and smile. And when, fooled, she would loosen her hold on him, that she would think her mission accomplished, he could finally let himself slide to nothingness. Without regrets. Without remorse. She was none the wiser.


	8. Chapter 8 promp Jumping in the lions den

A/N Roman's sundial is the wonderful beta who corrected this chapter, many many thanks to her!

Chapter 8: Prompt #8 - Jump Into the Lion's Den

Eyes wide open, Hermione stared at the canopy of her bed for a solid ten minutes. Nothing seemed to manage to make her sleep a full night. Tonight, she had tried a new sleeping draught and still she had awoken exactly at 2:30 in the morning.

She sighed heavily. She couldn't bear it anymore. She just wanted to sleep. It had become unbearable. Especially since Sirius seemed to like preventing her from enjoying the calm and loneliness of the night. Now, she couldn't even go back to sleep.

No, she was unfair and she knew it. Sirius had as much right as her to go into the kitchen at night to drink tea. _Or rather, spin a glass of Firewhisky in his fingers for hours_ , she thought wryly.

She liked Sirius. Truly. Spending time with him made Hermione realize how nice he was when he wanted to. But she felt that something was wrong. He had suddenly become more cheerful, as if leaving the depths of the depression in which he was immersed was no more complicated than operating a light switch.

She had shown Sirius the important places of Muggle London, which he had scarcely traveled during his youth, and which had changed so much. He was amazed at the London Eye, enthusiastic about crossing the Thames with the Millennium Bridge, even going to visit the Tate Modern once on the other side… But it felt like she was accompanied not by a person but by an actor. Someone who was playing the role that was expected of him, always with the right expression on the face, the right word at the right time.

 _No_ , Hermione thought as she put on her dressing gown and went down to the kitchen. Sirius was hiding something and, whatever it was, she had to find out. The earlier it would be the better, because the two weeks of leave she had were coming to an end.

Still lost in her thoughts, she pushed open the kitchen door, only to bump into it with a thud, which indicated that a _Colloportus_ was preventing her from opening it. Frowning in misunderstanding, Hermione grabbed her wand and whispered an Alohomora. She took a long breath, which she held back and, with a slow gesture, pushed the door again to see what was going on in the room.

Hermione didn't really know what she had expected, but certainly not what she discovered, and it froze her: Rabastan Lestrange stood in the kitchen next to a half conscious and gagged Sirius. He was tied to a chair and had been beaten, judging by the bruises and gashes on his face and chest.

Hermione's blood grew hot in an instant and she rushed into the room, wand in hand. Without even thinking or even calling for Harry in reinforcement, she stepped forward and cast an _Expelliarmus_ on the former Death Eater, disarming him immediately.

She was about to throw him an _Incarcerous_ when a vicious kick on the small of her back hurled her to the ground, sending her wand clatter to the floor, out of her reach. Hermione rolled over to see who had assaulted her from behind and suddenly found herself facing the man who had haunted so many of her nightmares.

As she heard Rabastan Lestrange pronounce the curse that immobilized her, she could not take her eyes off those of the predator heading towards her. 

Ten years in hiding had not done him well: he was filthy, way too thin, but his eyes had kept that glimmer of lust that made Hermione nauseous. Incapable of the slightest movement, she tried to face him with dignity, ignoring Sirius' muffled protests behind her.

He leaned toward her, his stale breath tickling her cheek before he took a deep breath in the hollow of her neck. "Hello, Beautiful," he whispered in the shell of her ear. Hermione wanted to scream, to yell, to struggle, to reduce him to pieces, but Lestrange's curse prevented her from doing so. She could do nothing but close her eyes and try to forget that one of her very own demons was facing her.

She blamed herself. She had jumped into the lion's den like the blasted Gryffindor she was. She had acted without thinking, without even considering that Lestrange might not be alone.

"You'll play with Mudblood later, Scabior," Rabastan spat. "Go put the wards back on the door and stand your guard."

With an annoyed sigh, Scabior pulled away from Hermione, but not without glancing at her with lustful promises in his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him cast another _Colloportus_ on the door, but he made no further wand movements and Hermione knew he hadn't put a soundproof spell on it. She knew it was her chance to rectify her previous carelessness and to alert Harry.

She was suddenly jerked out of her thoughts by the sickening sound of a nose being broken, followed by a painful moan. Immediately, her gaze leaved Scabior to turn to Sirius.

"Tell me how you came back from the dead, Black!" Lestrange ordered, partially releasing the gag that had previously prevented him from making a sound.

"Let her go and I'll tell you everything you want," Sirius said painfully, his voice thick with the blood running down from his nose to his lips. Immediately Hermione saw Rabastan turn to her, a crazy gleam in his eyes. He strode up to her and grabbed her by the hair, eliciting tears of pain from her and a grunted protest from Scabior. He lifted Hermione from the ground onto the large oak table, where she could only lie down, exposed to everyone's eyes. Attracted to her like a magnet, Scabior approached her, but he remained on alert, glancing at the door from time to time.

"Leave her!" Sirius roared, trying in vain to fight the magical ties that held him back. "It's me that you want! _I_ came back to life, not her!"

"You're a moron, Black," Rabastan hissed. "A real fucking Gryffindor to the core." Without saying another word, he tightened Sirius's gag violently, drawing out a new exclamation of pain from the wizard. "Scabior, you can dispose of her."

Hermione couldn't refrain the tears of fear and disgust that came to her eyes as Scabior ran his fingers along the lapels of her dressing gown. Almost nonchalantly, he slipped a finger under the knot and unknotted it with a gesture that could have been gracious had it not been so abject. He gently removed the sides of her robes before leaving the tips of his fingers running over her breasts hidden only by her thin camisole.

Hermione could hear Sirius struggling against his bonds with all his might, but nothing could seem to detach her from the feeling of Scabior's disgusting hands on her body. She wanted to vomit all the horror he inspired in her.

Scabior took time to languidly explore her chest with his hands before descending gradually to the small strip of flesh exposed where her camisole and pants should have joined. Then, he slowly lowered his face, first in the crook of her neck, where he remained for a long time, as if relishing in her personal smell, before descending to the apex of her tights and inhaling deeply, as if it emanated from her the most delectable fragrance.

But beyond the aversion she felt for Scabior, Hermione knew she had to resist. She had time to think: the position in which Lestrange had petrified her would force the Snatcher to lift the spell to get what he so obviously wanted.

"So, Black. Are you ready to talk now?" Lestrange suddenly asked. Hermione heard only a dull answer, but she knew that Sirius must have accepted in the foolish hope of protecting her. "Well, you're finally reasonable."

Focusing on her hearing, Hermione listened, she would have so little time to react... A few steps and then the sound of fabric tearing. Scabior was so close... Suddenly her focus was broken into by the face of Scabior entering her vision.

"Hush, hush, Beautiful," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder, seemingly to make sure the Death Eater was not watching him. "I need you to relax a little bit, just a little bit…" he whispered in the hollow of her ear before casting the counter spell.

It was all that Hermione needed to release the rage and disgust that was boiling inside her. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she pushed Scabior back with all her strength, almost managing to free herself from him. But she wasn't strong enough. Even weakened by his years on the run, the Snatcher was stronger than her and, with a brutal slap, he silenced her, leaving her half stunned, curled up on the table, as he recoiled, visibly surprised, but delighted, at the rebellion of his prey.

Indifferent to the fate of the mudblood vermin, Rabastan tirelessly asked Black how he had cheated death. He threatened, beaten, tortured him. If he had known that this brood would make him seem to be under the effect of Veritaserum, he would have gone to get her in her bed. He attentively listened to Black talking about a cold emptiness where he had the impression of floating, a warm white light that had enveloped him.

Rabastan wanted to hit Black, he didn't care about his stories of light! What Rabastan wanted was the key! The key to return from the afterlife. Thus, he would bring back Bellatrix and Rodolphus and the three of them would rule the wizarding world and enslave those Mudblood Magic Thieves, the vermin that tried to steal from the magical core. This was how squibs happened, when there wasn't enough magic for them because the evil mud bloods had stolen it all.

But before Sirius was able to finish his story, the door shattered under the violence of a spell that hurled all the occupants of the room to the ground. Everything happened at amazing speed. One moment Scabior was on her, caressing and cajoling her, as if hoping she could consent, and the next second, she had fallen on the stone floor of the kitchen, all in a deafening roar.

Immediately, Hermione scampered and slid as far as possible from her attacker, curling up between a closet and the stove. She closed her eyes so hard that her eyelids hurt. She did not want to see anymore. She did not want to see that emaciated and hated face that revolted her.

She heard Harry's voice in the tumult. She heard the spell he had just cast to capture Lestrange. She heard Kingsley's voice, then Ron's voice, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't know where her reality laid. Had her mind created that dream to spare her from what Scabior was doing to her body, or was it the reality? 

And then, only silence remained.


	9. Chapter 9 prompt stormy nights

A/N Roman's sundial beta'ed this chapter, send her love!

Chapter 9: Prompt #2 - Stormy Nights

Stormy nights were the worst.

Hermione never knew why. Storms had never frightened her before, even as a child. And yet, after the Final Battle, after the Horcruxes, after almost a year being hidden away, hunted down, and chased off, Hermione had begun to be afraid as soon as the thunder started to rumble.

Because everything was resurfacing.

Then she always ended up waking up screaming, covered in a cold sweat, frightened and disoriented. It had taken her a long time before she agreed to talk about it, even to those who understood the most. Even to Ron, the one who shared her bed.

Like her, Harry had endured the _Cruciatus_ curse. He knew exactly what that pain was like—that tear deep inside, that raging burn, and ultimately, that strange feeling deep inside of envisaging death as a liberation, of wanting to beg for the end of the suffering.

But Hermione had wanted to be strong. Stronger than what Bellatrix had done to her. Stronger than the memories of what Greyback whispered in her ear as he held her against him, groping her. Stronger than Scabior's hands on her body as his men tied up Ron and Harry.

Stronger than all the fears that haunted her every night.

She had wanted so badly to be stronger than that.

And then one day, suddenly, she had been unable to step out of her bed. She was afraid. She had an unreasonable fear of everything and everyone. She couldn't act anymore as if nothing had happened. Everything she had put up to face those events collapsed, leaving her alone to face her demons.

Then began for Hermione the long and slow path to healing. A path made of tears, pain and grief. But in the end, because of her efforts, because of Ron, who stood by her side every step of the way, she had finally conquered her terrors and managed to regain the upper hand.

Except on the stormy nights, when the nightmares came back to haunt her. Even ten years later.

Curled up in the cramped space between the cupboard and the stove, her eyes stubbornly closed, Hermione felt like in the heart of one of those terrible nights.

When suddenly the silence came, she opened her eyes slowly, only to meet Ron's blue eyes. He was crouching not far from her, frowning, worried but totally motionless, not daring to approach her, fearing to scare her.

To reassure him, Hermione gave him a weak smile. Immediately, he reached out to help her out of her hiding place and get up. As soon as she was standing, without saying a word, he took off the heavy cloak of Auror's uniform and put it on her shoulders, _Accioing_ her some shoes for her to put on.

She let her gaze go through what had once been the warm kitchen of the house in which she lived: the door was shattered beyond repair, the heavy oak table lay upside down a little further, the doors of some cupboards hung miserably, unhinged. Shattered glasses and dishes littered the ground, crunching under the soles of Auror boots.

In the middle of this shambles, clutching Ron's hand in hers, so strong that she was sure she was hurting him, Hermione slowly approached the grouped men.  
She didn't want live again through what she had lived, she did not want to let herself be trapped by her fear again. She wanted to confront Scabior, here and now, to destroy any psychological ascendancy that he could still have on her.

Clearing his throat, Ron signaled their presence. Harry and Kingsley, who had their backs turned to them, turned around, visibly relieved to see Hermione unharmed.

"You're okay?" Harry asked promptly, rushing over her and running his hands quickly over her face and her arms, as if to make sure she was still in one piece.

"I'll be fine," she answered, her voice still a little hoarse from screaming. "And Sirius?" she worried.

"Dawson is taking care of him but he refuses to go to St. Mungo's. Lestrange hurt him bad, his nose is broken. But apparently, it's Scabior he seems to be after. He tried to hit him twice already… What happened, Hermione?"

She refused to make the same mistakes. So instead of burying everything deep inside her like she had done ten years ago, Hermione immediately told Harry, Ron and Kingsley about the events that had just happened. They paled visibly when they heard her talk about what Scabior was about to do to her, but they stayed silent. They knew that the Wizengamot would soon send them rot in Azkaban. They mustn't do justice themselves right now, even if their wrath was immense.

When she had finished her story, Hermione, still holding Ron's hand, crossed the room with a decided step and went to stand in front of Scabior. The Aurors were preparing him to be transferred, ignoring Sirius' protests that he was not done with him.

Determined and assured, Hermione stood in front of Scabior. He straightened up, a vague smirk on his lips, staring at her with a concupiscent look that only fueled her anger.

Suddenly, something seemed to change in her, like the pieces of a puzzle that would suddenly fall into place and, the only thing that came to her mind was: how could she have been so afraid of him?

He was nothing. An underling that Voldemort hadn't even considered good enough to be a Death Eater. A sick bastard who took pleasure in chasing young women. And never again would she be scared of him.

Hermione felt rage rising in her, and she didn't want to stop it. The provocative look Scabior gave her, the anger she felt radiating from Ron, Harry, and even Sirius, only fueled the fire that seemed to want to consume her and she wanted to let it loose.

Suddenly, with a violence that wasn't her, Hermione threw her knee in the Snatcher's crotch. She watched him crumble to the ground, as if hypnotized by the sight of this hated man, breathless and moaning in pain. She jumped when she felt a hand touching lightly her shoulder.

Turning, she faced Sirius. A few bruises and bloodstains still marked his face and his chest, but his nose had been repaired and he seemed well, all things considered.

They remained silent for a moment that could have lasted a second as well as an eternity, looking in each other eyes, as if they were trying to understand the array of events that had just happened.

It was Harry's voice that suddenly reminded them of the reality: "We take these two to the Ministry to question them. There's two Aurors on guard here, until we understand how they got through the wards." Harry gently caressed Hermione's cheek and placed a familial kiss on her forehead before adding, "Take a bath, rest, do what you want, but stay here, okay? I will come back later."

Hermione nodded, and saw Harry then turn to his godfather. "Are you sure you don't want to go to St. Mungo's?" Sirius refused in an irrevocable tone, to which Harry replied with a resigned shrug. "I'll be back as soon as possible," he assured them again before apparating.

Before leaving, Ron advised Hermione to rest and reminded her, in a tone that Sirius immediately recognized as one of once shared intimacy, that he would always be there - no matter day or night - if she needed to speak. After one last hug, he apparated too.

With an apologetic smile to the two Aurors on duty in the room, Hermione slipped away, motioning for Sirius to follow her. She led him naturally upstairs to the library, where she dropped into her chair, still wrapped in Ron's big cloak, which made her look so tiny.

Sirius sat in the small sofa, close to Hermione's chair, and turned to face her. He was going to open his mouth to speak but she was faster and said blankly, "Neither you nor I will get to sleep again right now… I think we need to talk." She stared into Sirius' eyes for a moment and added, "And tell the whole truth."


	10. Chapter 10 prompt waiting

A/N Again and again many many thanks to the Great Roman's sundial for her tremendous editing skills!

Chapter 10: Prompt #7 - Waiting

"I can't tell you when I started to regain consciousness," Sirius began. "It was strange. I had no idea where I was. I remember Bellatrix sending a hex at me and then nothing… I don't even know if I was asleep, if she had stupefied me or if I was in some kind of coma. All I know is that I regained consciousness from time to time before plunging into darkness again. There was neither up nor down. Nothing. I don't even know if I was more than a floating spirit."

Hermione stared intensely at Sirius, almost literally drinking in his words. He didn't know why he was talking to her. She had demanded the truth and suddenly he was unveiling everything to her. Even what he had previously refused to remember. Later, he would surely blame fatigue.

"I don't know how much time I spent drifting in and out of consciousness." Sirius paused, then continued. "Sometimes there was silence, sometimes I heard whispers. They were just strong enough for me to understand that people were talking to me, but too weak for me to understand the words they were saying. And sometimes rustling… And mostly, I felt the cold."

As if she had understood that he was speaking both in present and past, Hermione flicked her wand at the chimney, starting a fire, and turned back to Sirius. "I had no sense of time," he said. "Harry told me about the stone he used, the ghosts he had seen. Lily, James, Remus, and even me… And yet, I don't remember anything."

Sirius stopped speaking. He stared outside, mesmerized by the light from Grimmauld Place streetlights, which were visible through the library's bow window.

Hermione hadn't expected that. She had believed what he had told the Unspeakables when he had claimed to have forgotten everything. And she realised that he had lied, but she wasn't angry at him because she understood why he preferred not to remember, why he preferred to forget that after twelve years of his youth stolen by the Ministry and the Dementors, he had lost so many years of his life in a frozen nothingness where time didn't even seem to exist.

After a long silence during which he had watched the street lights go out one by one and only punctuated by the creaks of the old house and the fire, Sirius spoke again.

"Sometimes, there was smell. Very rarely. But each time the same smell. Like strawberries, and something acidic… And during those moments, I was less cold." He sighed, running a hand through his hair before continuing.

"So I hung on that smell. Every time it came back, I tried to reach out… I don't know. And then, some heat appeared. It was tiny and flicking but it was there, weak but present, more and more often and… And then there was light. I thought… I thought I was going to reach, I don't know, some kind of paradise, or hell… I think I would have preferred anything to this nothingness."

He exhaled a jerky sigh that tore at Hermione's heart. "And instead of finally going somewhere in the afterlife, I found myself on the steps of Grimmauld Place."

Hermione was silent. She couldn't even imagine what Sirius had endured. She had the impression that she was seeing him for the first time, that she had never really looked at him before. She knew that he had suffered more than she could have known, but she could never have imagined how much. To be conscious, even barely, during the years he was trapped behind the Veil must have been torture.

After all, as he had come out exactly as he had fallen, she was only too happy to believe the Unspeakables when they say that for him it was as if he had just blinked. But fate seemed to take a sick pleasure in making Sirius suffer.

Hermione continued to observe him, watching silently as his face appear gradually more clearly as the day rose. She was lost in thoughts, not knowing exactly how to react to what he had just said. If she hugged him, as she had already done the last time he spoke to her, he would certainly take that for pity, and she didn't want that.

She empathized, of course, but she didn't pity him. And deep down, she knew that Sirius had so much to live on, so much happiness to share. All she could do was to help him find the strength to move on from what he had gone through.

She was thinking about what she was going to tell him when Harry's voice startled her. He was already back from the Ministry, and he asked them to join him immediately downstairs.

The moment she entered the living room, Hermione knew something was wrong. She had known Harry for too long to not immediately guess when something was really bothering him. "What's going on Harry?" she asked immediately.

"Scabior and Lestrange are in custody, Hermione, don't worry," he replied kindly. He turned to Sirius, who was staring at him, an obvious question in his eyes.

Harry seemed to weigh his words for a moment and sighed before saying, "I don't know if you know it, Sirius, but the Auror's investigations are systematically controlled by the Department of Mysteries, and…"

Hermione saw Sirius tense. Evidently, the Unspeakables would be only too happy "to examine" again the only person who had managed to escape the Veil, now that Lestrange had told them all that Sirius had confessed under duress. "I'm doing my best to slow them down, but—"

"They mustn't go anywhere near Sirius!" Hermione gasped, glaring at Harry.

"You think I'll let them do it?" Harry protested, ignoring the contrite glance of his friend who immediately regretted that she had been carried away. Rummaging through one of his pockets, he pulled out a compass that was spinning in all directions, obviously out of order. "It's a Portkey. That's all I could do in such a short time. The Seamus has a muggle aunt who has a house on Arrain Mhor Island. You both have to go. They want to examine you too, Hermione." Putting the compass on the table, he added, "Hurry to pack your bags. The portkey leaves in 10 minutes."

Sirius and Hermione stared at Harry, stunned. Thousands of questions ran through their minds, but they knew it was their only option. Even if Harry, Kingsley or those who remained of the Order used all their combined influences, the Unspeakables would get their hands on Sirius and Hermione before their friends could do anything.

Immediately, Hermione rushed to her room, already reviewing in her mind what she was going to take with her. The weather in Ireland wasn't exactly lenient at this time of the year.

In her hurry, she didn't notice Harry's hand resting on Sirius' arm, holding him back for a moment. "I'm going to let Hermione believe that she's running from the Unspeakables." He stared into his godfather's eyes, and added, "But there is something more serious than the Unspeakables."

Harry felt Sirius tense, anticipating what he was going to hear. "You'll have to protect her: Scabior confessed to casting a spell to bind them years ago, when he caught the three of us. She isn't even aware of it. He always knows where she is. He feels it."

The disgust twisted Harry's mouth. "He claims that now that he has found her, she will feel called to him. He's locked up and I'll make sure he stays that way, but I'm not sure that all the Snatchers have been captured… There was so much going on after the war…" Harry sighed visibly. "Protect her. And stop her from joining him if she feels the pull…"

Solemnly, Sirius put his hand on his godson's shoulder and assured him that he would protect Hermione with his life if that was necessary. Then, he raced upstairs to gather some clothing and personal items with an _Accio_. He came back to the living room a few minutes later, putting his hand on the compass as it started to vibrate. He gave one last look at Harry, aware of the mission he had been entrusted with.


	11. Chapter 11 prompt the wind rises

A/N Beta love : Great Roman's sundial! She's the best!

Chapter 11: Prompt #15 - The Wind Rises

Moors and cliffs made of black stone. That was all Sirius and Hermione were able to see since their arrival in Seamus' muggle aunt's summer home in Arrain Mhor three weeks ago.

Fortunately, Daithe, Seamus' muggle aunt who lived in the nearby town of Burtonport, had visited them several times, bringing them vegetables, eggs and milk, thus breaking the oceanic languor that threatened to overwhelm them—and also allowing them to feed on something other than the preserves that were in abundance in the cottage. 

Through Seamus' aunt, Harry had sent them a cell phone; using muggle technology was the only way to bypass the Ministry's surveillance. He had since called them as often as possible, keeping them informed of what was going on in London, but the situation had not improved. Despite further pressure from Kingsley, the Unspeakables refused to quit their obsessive want of questioning and examine both Sirius and Hermione.

But what worried Harry even more was that no one seemed to know the spell that Scabior claimed to have cast on Hermione, not even Professor Flitwick. Harry was stalling, and that made him absolutely irascible.

With his shoulder resting against the thick door frame, Sirius watched Hermione, looking after her as he promised.

She was sitting a little further away, just below the kitchen window, on a small wooden bench that was certainly standing up by magic as it seemed to have been beaten so much by the elements. A cat-like grin on her lips as her face was turned towards the few rays of sun that had appeared after three days of continuous rain. She was simply radiant.

As she threw her head back, Sirius saw the pearly thread of a scar, standing out clearly on the delicate skin of her neck.

Bellatrix.

He clenched his fists to contain the wave of anger that swept over him. He sighed heavily to calm himself down, wondering if someday he would manage to do like Hermione and put everything behind him. Was it only in his nature?

Their first day at the cottage had been almost exclusively devoted to cleaning and airing out the cottage after a long period of vacancy. By the end of the afternoon, while Sirius was preparing a tea for them both, the clouds had begun to pile up outside. He had seen Hermione take a nervous look at them. Immediately, he was worried: did she feel this attraction, this call to Scabior that Harry had spoken about?

She had put a hand on her face, pushing aside a strand of her hair that had stuck to her forehead after the shower she had taken a little earlier. She was undeniably nervous.

Lost in his observation of the young woman, Sirius was almost startled when the kettle began to whistle. With a gesture that he had almost lost the habit of doing, he poured boiling water over the tea leaves, inhaling the aromas of bergamot escaping with the steam. He had always loved Earl Grey and he was delighted that Daithe had left two full boxes in one of the cupboards of the small kitchen.

He had filled the two cups waiting on the table and put the teapot a little further before looking at Hermione again. She looked so tired. By the events of the previous day, of course, since none of them had closed the eyes since them, but there was something else. She stared at the clouds, curling into herself a little more at each gust of wind that crashed into the stone facade of the cottage.

"Don't worry, I'm sure the wind won't blow us away," he had said, in an attempt to lighten her up. Hermione had replied with a faint smile, tightening around her the thick robes of her dressing-gown and almost unconsciously approaching the fireplace that was warming the little house.

"Are you okay?" Sirius finally asked when he saw the young woman start as the thunder rumbled outside.

"It's silly," Hermione answered, without taking her eyes off the window. "I… I'm afraid of the storm," she confessed, between discomfort and relief.

Sirius had stared up in amazement. He would never have expected that. Since he had "returned," his opinion of Hermione had changed considerably from the memory he had, but something had remained unchangeable: her strength.

Already as a teenager, she seemed so level-headed, so confidant—and excruciatingly annoying because of that—but she was a rock for Harry. A beacon. And since his return, Sirius had found in her the same strength, but less bossy, tinged with humour and femininity. He had admired the way she had stayed calm when… He suppressed a shudder of anger at Scabior's thought. And suddenly, she had confessed to him a fault, an almost childish weakness. It was disarming.

Listening only to his guts, Sirius sat next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders, noting with pleasure that she snuggled against him and seemed to be slowly relaxing.

And while the storm, thunder and lightning were raging outside, Hermione told Sirius about her war.

Of course, Harry and Andromeda had explained to him what had happened but they had skimmed by the most personal details of the war. His godson had told him about Malfoy Manor, but nothing he had understood had prepared him for Hermione's tale: the broken taboo, the Snatchers, Scabior, Greyback, Bellatrix, the Cruciatus Curse… and finally, Dobby's intervention that saved them all.

Knowing the whole truth about what had happened strangely soothed Sirius. That had made him even more determined to protect Hermione, he wanted even more to beat that Scabior into a bloody pulp.

He knew she suspected something because she sometimes gave him quizzical looks to which he was content to answer with a smile. She was too smart to be fooled, but as long as she didn't ask frank and straightforward questions, he would not have to lie to her, so be it.

A sudden gust of wind swept in front the house, jerking Sirius from his thoughts and making Hermione shudder.

"Don't you want to go back inside?" he called.

"Not yet," she whined, her face still toward the sun, despite the wind.

Smiling at her stubbornness to take advantage of the little heat offered, he grabbed one of the brightly coloured plaids that had been thrown on one of the armchairs in the living room and went to sit next to her. He wrapped them in the blanket, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders to warm her up, and raised his face to the sky.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her, point blank. Now, they had gone beyond pretence and useless politeness; only the truth remained between them.

"That I'm fine here, and that I shouldn't be," she answered immediately. "I should feel guilty about not being at work, and yet… I'm not."

"Perhaps you should change jobs if you want it so little to return to your Magical Creatures," he answered simply.

Hermione raised her face sharply, looking deeply into Sirius' eyes. "Do you think I should?" she asked him seriously, she had obviously never even considered this possibility.

"If that makes you happy, stay with the Magical Creatures, if not change. You're smart enough to be the next Minister for Magic, and you're not even thirty. It's not like a career change is going to stop you, right?"

She said nothing for a long time, a sign of intense reflection, he had learned. Then, as the first drops of rain fell, she grabbed Sirius' hand and dragged him into the cottage, an enigmatic smile on her lips.


	12. Chapter 12 prompt the 5 senses

A/N Beta love : Great Roman's sundial! 3

Chapter 12: Prompt #5 - The Five Senses

Frustrated that the Unspeakables were not renouncing their efforts in pursuing Sirius and Hermione as their next subjects of experimentation, Harry had resorted to desperate measures: he contacted Rita Skeeter.

During a more than tense meeting, he reluctantly agreed to give her the exclusivity of his godfather's story to the journalist, who immediately published a series of articles praising the "long lost hero wrongly convicted fighting against the relentless Ministry."

Quickly, the public opinion was moved and they lobbied to have Sirius—whom they thought some sort of romantic hero who had already suffered so much—left in peace, and petitions began to flow into the Ministry.

This allowed Kingsley to find the necessary backing to submit a motion to the Wizengamot, which was validated almost unanimously and thus awarded Sirius a Merlin Order Second Class for Services Rendered to the Wizarding World, thereby making him safe from the inquisitions of the Unspeakables.

Indeed, the Order of Merlin recipients had a special status under the Wizarding Law which implied that every investigation, whether conducted by the Aurors or the Unspeakables, had to be validated by the Minister for Magic himself. Of course, as soon as he received the official request from the Unspeakables to examine Sirius, Kingsley hastily put it under the nearest file stack.

Sirius' and Hermione's—her being the recipient of an Order of Merlin first class shortly after the war—files were now protected from the curiosity of the Unspeakables. At least while Kingsley was Minister.

The trials of Scabior and Lestrange took place soon after, and both were unanimously sentenced to a life sentence in Azkaban. Their crimes didn't inspire any leniency from the Wizengamot.

Scabior now sent away in Azkaban and Sirius' reassurances that Hermione didn't seem to feel the pull the Snatcher had talked about, Harry finally allowed his godfather and his friend to return to London after a month and half of exile to Arrain Mhor.

In hindsight, Harry regretted not having informed Hermione of the spell that Scabior had said to have cast on her. He hadn't wanted to add to her stress after what she had been through in the kitchen, but if she'd been able to research it instead of going to Ireland to hide, she would certainly have determined what a curse it was, unlike Harry who hadn't found a thing.

So, as soon as Sirius and Hermione got back to Grimmauld Place, Harry settled down with them in the freshly renovated kitchen—the walls had been repainted, the cupboards, the chairs and the table replaced—and, gathering his courage, Harry confessed everything to Hermione.

To say that she was hurt was a euphemism, but contrary to what he feared, she didn't hex Harry. She was upset, of course, but seemed to understand that Sirius and Harry had intended to protect her.

Relieved that she hadn't hexed him, Harry immediately told her everything he knew about what Scabior said he had done, hoping to narrow down Hermione's potential research.

Too fast for her liking, Hermione had to return to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She picked up on the upbeat pace that had been hers for so long, immersed in her work, adding without comment the researches about the spell that was supposed to bind her soul to Scabior's to her workload.

Although she didn't believe for a moment that soul binding spell could really work, she felt nothing but disgust for the Snatcher, absolutely none of the attraction he claimed to control. Maybe he could trace her, but that was all he had achieved.

Unfortunately, because of Rita Skeeter's articles that had allowed him to escape the clutches of the Unspeakables, Sirius' reintegration into the wizarding society was far from smooth. His last attempt to get out into Diagon Alley induced such a commotion that he had to hide in Madam Malkin's for a while.

So, Sirius naturally turned to the muggle world that Hermione had allowed him to discover during the two weeks they had spent together before the "incident".

While Hermione and Harry were at the Ministry, Sirius wandered in London. He had quickly become acquainted with the regulars—to the point of becoming one of them—of a small pub a few steps away from King's Cross. He didn't drink alcohol anymore, which caused him many friendly quips, but he soon found his place, as strange as it could be, among the most loyal and all muggles customers.

During some of his walks, he liked to get lost in the most remote suburbs of London. So much so, that one day, while wandering in Teddington, he discovered a garage specialized in ancient AJS, the motorcycles he preferred in his youth.

Now used to muggle conversations, Sirius quickly got to know the owner of the shop, staying with him all day, and returning to Grimmauld Place rather late in the evening, a sphinx's smile plastered on his face.

When he arrived, hearing sounds there, he immediately headed for the kitchen, knowing full well that he would find at least one of his housemates. He had never understood why they were both often could be found in the kitchen, doing the dishes or the cooking the muggle way. They all knew magic could ease some chores but Harry and Hermione seemed to enjoy the muggle way so much… It was somewhat endearing.

Sirius softly opened the door, making no sound and finding Hermione alone, apparently focused on her task. Her back was toward him, and she was leaning over the large stone basin where the soapy water lapped with the rhythm of her gestures. Her hair, loose as it often was when she was at home, hung freely, wrapped around her figure and making her look almost frail, but Sirius knew better.

Up to no good, as always and particularly mischievous thanks to the events of the day, Sirius approached Hermione noiselessly. He was only two steps away when, without taking her eyes off the dishes in the sink, she said to him, "If you think you can surprise me, you're delusional, Sirius." She wiped her hands at the towel that hung on a hook by the sink, before turning to him, an amused gleam in her eyes. "When will you understand that I have exceptional hearing?"

Sirius raised his hands in surrender and sat in his usual place on the wooden bench that lined the huge kitchen table.

"Do you want to eat something?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"No thanks, I had dinner outside with someone," he answered immediately.

"Ah." She turned back to the sink, resuming the activities that Sirius' arrival had interrupted.

Sirius didn't understand Hermione's reaction. Why did she suddenly seem to feel disappointed that he had dined out? It wasn't like it was the first time he hadn't come home for a meal. She had never seemed to mind before… Maybe she had prepared something special for dinner and was disappointed that he wasn't there, but she could have just told him beforehand…

"But I have room for dessert if there is any left," he ventured, hoping that would please Hermione. But she didn't even turn around, just swished her wand at the cold pantry, _Accio-_ ing from it a nice slice of pudding that he recognized immediately as his favourite.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. Hermione suddenly seemed so cold and distant… Had he said something that could have hurt her?

Deciding not to let his good mood be dragged down by Hermione shortness, he took the plate that she had levitated to him, got up and went to get two teaspoons, and planted himself next to the young woman who was still washing the dishes. "I would like to share this delicious pudding with you to celebrate the end of my idleness," he stated.

Without leaving her eyes from the sink, Hermione frowned, obviously not understanding what he was talking about.

"I found a job!" he announced proudly. Immediately the young woman's face lit up, and before Sirius had time to add anything, he felt two wet, foamy hands slip around his neck.

He immediately hugged her back as best he could, considering that he still had his dessert plate in his hand, but was happy to see her so enthusiastic. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of honeysuckle from her hair and deliberately ignoring the smell of dish water that was floating around them.

After a few short seconds, Hermione pulled away from him, her cheeks rosy and a huge smile on her face. "Why didn't you tell me you were looking for work?! And what are you going to do? And—"

He put a finger on her mouth to silence her, just on that little indentation in her lower lip that proved him that, as she always did when she was deep in thoughts or upset, her teeth had been there moments before.

Sirius was tempted to let his finger run down her bottom lip, only to take advantage of its softness for a moment, but he regained his senses and, taking a step back, placed his treacherous hand in his pockets.

"It's in a muggle garage specializing in English motorcycles, and not just any motorcycle, the AJS! I spent a good part of the day with the boss and we sealed our agreement during dinner." He didn't notice the fleeting relief that passed over Hermione's features at those words. "The owner noticed that I knew myself around bikes, and he wants me to travel the country, and much of Europe, to find rare models, in any state, that he can repair and resell."

"That's great, Sirius!" Hermione seemed genuinely happy for him.

"Let's say it's a good thing that I don't really _need_ to work, since the income will sure be more than irregular ... I won't be paid until the motorcycles that I provide are bought…"

"Yes, but being paid to do something you love is important," Hermione argued as she grabbed the spoon Sirius had left on the countertop, which she filled generously with pudding before bringing it to Sirius' mouth. "So taste this celebration pudding," she declared pompously, forcing the full spoon into the mouth he had opened to answer her.

Sirius couldn't help but close his eyes to savour the sensations that invaded his palate. The Queen's pudding was really his favourite. The sweet acidity of the raspberry, which mingled so perfectly with the meringues, gave him the impression of enjoying a cloud each time. When he opened his eyes, it was only to meet the laughing look of Hermione.

"That good?" she teased him.

"Perfect," he replied, his mouth already filled with a new spoonful.

Apparently no longer wanting to do the dishes, Hermione waved her wand for it to finish on its own and, in another flick, put the kettle on.

"Where is Harry, by the way?" Sirius asked suddenly. He didn't remember that his godson had mentioned that he would be away this evening.

"Party at the Burrow. Ron apparently needed him urgently." She leaned over to Sirius and added in a conspiratorial tone, "It's about Ron's bachelor party, but they're convinced I don't know a thing about that."

Sirius couldn't hold his bark of laugh. "But yet you're Ron's best woman. They should make you participate," he protested.

"Sirius…" Hermione falsely admonished, pouring the boiling water into the teapot. "Would _you_ want to see your ex-girlfriend, who is incidentally also your best friend and one of the best women at your marriage, be the only woman in the middle of a gang of drunk boys, in a strip bar?"

Sirius' grimace was answer enough. Setting two cups and the teapot on the table, she slowly poured the steaming tea before adding, casually, "And what they don't know is that I am organizing Ella's hen night with her Matron of Honor."

"You really are incorrigible!" he reproached, amused, rolling his eyes.


	13. Chapter 13 promt 6 o'clock

A/N: Beta love to the wonderful Roman's sundial!

Chapter 13: Prompt #10 - Six O'clock

It was already six o'clock in the evening and she had yet to come home. Sirius was starting to worry a little, he had to admit it. Any other evening of the week, Hermione returned at more than variable hours, it was very rare that she was not there at five on Friday. Especially on a Friday when their friends were invited for diner if what Harry had told him was to be believed.

Returning only the day before after an almost week long stay in Ireland, which had proved very successful since he had found no less than three motorcycles in good condition, Sirius hadn't yet crossed paths with Hermione, not the evening before nor that morning since he slept in.

He couldn't help but worry. It was really not her habit to arrive late, and especially not without warning. He was all the more impatient that he had taken advantage of his stay in Ireland to go and see Daithe, who had given him a tin of what he suspected were those delicious biscuits covered in caramel she baked and whose Hermione craved.

As he was growing more and more impatient and worried, Sirius started to pace, pondering if he should go upstairs to talk with Harry who was preparing for the party. Sirius heard the distinctive crack of Apparition behind him and turned abruptly, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Near the massive table, he saw a disheveled Hermione with red cheeks, eyes sparkling with excitement and twitching with barely contained impatience.

He was at her side in a blink, asking what was happening. She just stared at him, the expression on her face alternating between delighted and incredulous. Suddenly, she seemed to come back to reality and called for Harry loudly, who immediately came down in a hurry.

Hardly had his godson entered the kitchen when Hermione rushed to him and exclaimed, "Overwhelming majority! It passed!"

Sirius didn't understand, his eyes went from Harry to Hermione, but to no avail. Harry burst into happy laughter and took his friend in his arms, twirling her and repeating, "I knew it! You're bloody brilliant!"

A throat clearing soon brought them back to reality. Realizing what it was all about, Harry gently released a rather dazed Hermione and turned to his godfather, a huge smile lighting up his face.

"Hermione and I didn't have the right to talk about it… Professional secrecy, you understand…" he explained, deliberately ignoring Sirius' upset look. "A few weeks ago, Hermione had left the Department of Magical Creatures for the benefit of the DMLE, of which she became Assistant Director! And she was presenting her first motion today, and it passed!" Harry chirped before turning back to his best friend.

"I was so sure of you that I've already invited everyone to dinner," confessed with a smile. Seeing Hermione's anxious look, he hurriedly added, "Don't worry, I've reserved a big table in a quiet restaurant… I wasn't going to ask you to host to celebrate your own victory."

After a last warm hug to Hermione, Harry slipped away to finish getting ready, advising before leaving to his two roommates to do the same if they didn't want to be late.  
Sirius sighed heavily. His gaze firmly fixed on the massive table of the kitchen, he tried to understand what he was feeling. He knew he should have been happy for Hermione. So why couldn't he get rid of that kind of insidious jealousy of having been kept out? Professional secrecy. Obviously.

But why hadn't she told him that she had become Deputy Director of the DMLE?

Sirius had the sensation of having swallowed something bitter whose taste refused to disappear from his tongue. Sighing again and running a hand through his hair, he shot a last look at Hermione, who was frowning at him, clearly not understanding his subdued reaction.

He gave her a smile, he couldn't manage to make sincere. Perhaps he would succeed later. He whispered, "Congratulations Hermione, I'm happy for you," before leaving the room, ignoring the young woman's surprised protest.

Knowing perfectly Hermione's preference for discretion, Harry had reserved a private room in a muggle restaurant near West End where he was convinced that the quirks of their wizard friends could pass for eccentricities.

Confident in his choice, ready for the evening, he descended quietly to the living room, waiting for Sirius and Hermione. As he had expected, only moments later, Hermione joined him. When she entered the room, Harry's eyes widened. She was beautiful.

Of course, Harry knew that Hermione was a pretty woman, even if she wasn't his type. But most of the time, she gave little importance to her appearance, she didn't wear makeup, and rarely wore clothes emphasizing her body and Harry forgot entirely that she could look so beautifully sophisticated when she put her mind to it.

She wore a black dress, very simple and yet it enhanced every curve of her body perfectly, sublimating it. She had tied her hair into a bun that seemed infinitely complex to Harry, and had let only a few strands that framed her face, bringing her smokey makeup eyes out even more.

He greeted her with a smile and complimented her before taking her hand and apparating to a quiet side street, not far from the restaurant where Ginny, Harry's evident accomplice in the organization of the evening, was waiting for them.

Leaving Hermione in the care of his fiancée, Harry shifted to Grimmauld to escort his godfather to the party. After having called him several times from the ground floor, Harry resolved to go upstairs and fetch him. He finally found Sirius him in his room, shirtless, in front of his wardrobe, looking for a shirt to wear.

"I've called you several times, Sirius. You could have answered me!" Harry said as he entered the room, standing next to his godfather. Sirius just nodded and pulled out two shirts, obviously unwilling to hurry.

"Put on the grey one," Harry ordered him, removing the other shirt from his godfather's hands, "and hurry up please, it looks like you're doing everything to make us late."

When Sirius didn't answer, Harry's patience grew thin, his godfather's apparent flippancy grating on his nerves. Harry wanted the evening to go as smoothly as possible, Hermione deserved it. "Don't tell me you're hanging around because you don't want to come?" he asked, stunned by the immaturity of his godfather.

Sirius had the decency to look embarrassed that Harry have seen through but denied the suspicions of his godson anyway. "No, of course not," he said. He pulled on his shirt in a hurry, quickly pushing his hair out of his face with his fingers. He then turned to Harry and declared, "See, I'm ready. Let's go to this dinner."

But Harry didn't buy it. Something was off with Sirius, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what. The strange and distant attitude of his godfather wasn't usual. But instead of worrying about it, it only made Harry indignant. "How, after all that she did for you, do you dare to behave like that now considering it's Hermione's achievement we celebrate?"

It was the first time Harry allowed himself to raise his voice to him and Sirius felt a strange mixture of anger at him to dare to scold him and pride that he was man enough to stand up for a friend. But it was anger that won. "After all she did for me?" he repeated in a loud voice. "Hermione is brilliant, Harry, and I know what I owe her! You both saved my life when you were just kids, I remember. But I really don't see why my presence is so important at a dinner to celebrate some professional achievement…"

Harry stared at his godfather incredulously. How could he be so ungrateful? How could he pretend that Hermione's work hadn't been entirely dedicated to him, as if she weren't… Suddenly, Harry realized: Sirius simply didn't know. Truly. He didn't show ingratitude, only ignorance and a tad of stubbornness.

His anger at his godfather immediately deflating, Harry asked, "Did Hermione tell you what was the motion she presented to the Wizengamot?"

Not understanding the sudden change in his godson demeanour, Sirius frowned, but answered anyway. "We didn't talk after you left the kitchen, I… I went upstairs to go get ready."

Harry sighed heavily and dropped on the bed nearby. Merlin! Were Hermione and Sirius so stupid?  
Laying his elbows on his knees, Harry pressed his temples with his fingertips, feeling a nasty headache coming. He looked at his godfather, who stared at him intently, an obvious question in his stormy grey eyes.

"Right," Harry said, standing abruptly. "So, we go to the restaurant now, and you talk to Hermione. Or better, you listen to what I'm going to say, okay?" Sirius shrugged. How important could it be?

"And I'll watch you as the jigsaw fall into places," Harry added before Apparating.

As soon as they arrived in West End, Sirius tried to question his godson further about what was going to happen, but Harry just hurried him up. They quickly entered the restaurant where their friends were waiting for them.

All of them had managed to be present for Hermione: George and Angelina, who had closed WWW early, Ron and Ella, Neville and Hannah—who had exceptionally closed the Leaky Cauldron for the occasion—Seamus and Lavender, and even Dean and Luna, who had just returned from a long journey in Africa in search of some creature no one had ever heard before.

When they entered the room that Harry had reserved for more privacy, Harry and Sirius were greeted by exclamations of "Finally!" and raised glasses as a sign of welcome.

Noticing Hermione had she stood up to greet them, Sirius almost gasped. She was gorgeous. The dress she had chosen showed her figure perfectly, but the warm, happy aura surrounding her render him speechless.

However, when she met Sirius's gaze, her smile froze at once, becoming uncertain, as if she feared his reaction, before she looked away, visibly hurt by his previous dismissal.

When the appetizers, which the guests had taken to wait as Sirius and Harry seemed to take an infinite time to arrive, were finished and the orders placed, Ginny stood up. "Thank you all for being here," she said with a smile. "If Harry and I asked you to come tonight, it's because Hermione is celebrating a very special victory tonight. Those who know her also know that Hermione had a wish close to her heart for a long time… and today, she realized it."

Now everyone was staring at Hermione, who had turned as red as a peony. Coming immediately to her rescue as he knew how much she hated the spotlight, Harry got up and continued. "hope you didn't mind us keeping this a secret, but we had to," Harry said, staring intently at his godfather, who didn't look back, his eyes still fixed on Hermione. "Hermione has been for some time Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Justice—"

"Which makes her sort of our boss," Ron intervened good naturedly, making the guests smile as they imagined the thousands of bickering that would ensue.

"And today, she presented her first motion to Wizengamot," Harry continued, his voice exuding pride. "Today, we celebrate the victory of the one who officially ended the use of Dementors in the wizarding justice system and ensured that everyone's right to a fair trial was enshrined in law." Planting his emerald gaze into the one, more than surprised of his godfather, Harry added, "Congratulations to Hermione for writing and passing the 'Sirius Black Motion!'"

Sirius was aghast. What a moron he had been! Acting like a spoiled brat because he had not been included in the secret of what was the most thoughtful gift, the most beautiful attention he had ever received.

Hermione knew better. She knew him so much that she knew that making sure no one would have to go through the hardships he had endured was the best gift she could offer him. And she did it. And he gave her the cold shoulder.

Ignoring the chair that fell when he got up, the surprised hiccough of Ella beside whom he had been seated, or all eyes on him turned, Sirius crossed the room in four long steps, and took Hermione in his arms, hugging her tight against his wildly beating heart and whispering how sorry he was to be such a prick and not have listened to her before.

After a fleeting moment of surprise where she remained motionless, Hermione responded to Sirius' embrace, hugging him too, happy that the work she had put all her heart into moved him like that.

Much faster than she would have liked, Hermione felt Sirius's arms slowly come off of her, slowly putting an end to their embrace. Touched and content, Hermione lifted her face to Sirius, a bright smile on her lips, but was only met with a smouldering look.

Almost worried about his reaction, she searched Sirius's eyes and for a moment lost herself in their depths. What she read in them left her speechless: desire—pure, raw, and undeniable.

She took a deep breath, reflexively moistening her lips, and followed Sirius' gaze as it focused on her darting tongue.

But suddenly, as abruptly as if he had been broken out of hypnosis, Sirius turned away and grabbed the first drink within reach, raising it to toast to the brilliant Hermione.

Unsure of what they had just witnessed, the guests glanced curiously at each other in silent questions, but lifted their glasses nonetheless, not questioning the poor Hermione, who sported a red complexion worthy of any Weasley.


	14. Chapter 14 prompt orchid

A/N: Beta love to the wonderful Roman's sundial! I don't know how to thank her enough for her help!

Chapter 13: Prompt #13 - Orchid

This wedding was a torture. Or rather, _Sirius'_ intimate torture.

Not because the marriage itself was painful. Absolutely not. The bride was beautiful in her cream wedding dress, her chestnut hair decorated with splendid white orchids, and the guests were very pleasant overall.

But then there was Molly Weasley. Overwhelmed with happiness, she spent her time telling every people she met how happy she was for her Ronnie-darling and asking what they were waiting for to get married. She even had the audacity to tell Sirius that now at 37 years old, it was time for him to settle down. As if he had had the choice…

Then there was Harry, in his ceremonial robes, who looked so much like James that Sirius felt his heart squeeze like never before when he saw him near the altar. For a moment, he thought he was seeing his best friend as he was about to marry Lily, but the confusion soon faded, leaving Sirius more alone than ever.

And above all, there was Hermione. Sublime in a simple yet gorgeous purple dress, her hair cascading down her back as Sirius loved it so much, an orchid perched on her ear, undeniable proof of her affection for the bride, she radiated with joy.

But why did she have to be so beautiful? So desirable?  
Sirius sighed heavily and dropped to the nearest chair, unable to take his eyes off Hermione, who was talking to Ella and one of her bridesmaids a little further away.

Sirius knew he had no other solution, he had to leave. He knew he would have to leave London for a long time to get over her. He had to get Hermione out of his head. That he had to get over his infatuation, because she would never be his, she was too good, too pure, too innocent for him and above all, she would never see him as he saw her.

He was only dead weight; a ghost of the wizard he had been. He could never make her happy, he could never be completely normal and serene, he knew it. Azkaban had branded him and the Veil had finished removing from him the slightest trace of humanity.

He had felt alive beside her, but he could not continue to thrive on her warmth, to draw his energy, his desire to live in Hermione's, so he had to leave.

For a moment, he had thought possible that Hermione was attracted to him as he was to her, but soon he had to face the reality. It was not possible; he had mistaken his desires for a reality.

Lost in thought, Sirius jumped when Ron sat in the chair beside his, looking visibly pleased but exhausted. "I didn't even think it was possible to want to run away from your own wedding," he whispered to Sirius with a smile that denied that he was really thinking about it.  
Sirius raised an eyebrow and asked jokingly, "Did you had the misfortune to pass near your mother?"

"No, worse," Ron replied, looking falsely dark. "George, Charlie and Bill. In great discussion about the importance of taking Ella to St. Mungo's for her to be either exorcised or interned."

Sirius couldn't hold back a laugh, the Weasley elders were tough with their younger brother, but he loved their wicked sense of humour. "Not you too!" Ron added, laughing with his best friend's godfather.

They stood for a moment, in a friendly silence, their eyes often deviating towards the place where the bride was still in great discussion with Hermione.

"Don't know what's holding you back, but I hope it's not me," Ron finally said, putting an end to their silence.

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, visibly puzzled.

Ron stared at him for a moment, wondering if Sirius was as clueless as he appeared. "I'm talking to you about Hermione. One would have to be blind not to see that—"

"I'll stop you right now!" Sirius cut him off, more drily than he would have liked. "I don't know what idea Harry has put in your head, but there's nothing between Hermione and me." Catching Ron's surprised look when he mentioned his godson, he continued. "Harry spent the week wondering what was going on between her and me and telling me to be careful with her. So I'll repeat it one last time, hoping that you understand it and then that you convince my godson: there is nothing between Hermione and me," he finished, clearly separating each of his last words as if articulating could better convince Ron.

Looking back at Hermione, who had left Ella's company for the unsavoury and unenviable of Aunt Muriel's, Ron said, "I don't really know who you're trying to convince: you or me. What I know is that there _is_ something between you two." He raised a hand to stop Sirius, who was about to protest again. "I listened to you, now, you listen to me," he ordered.

Visibly surprised, Sirius said nothing. He just stared at Ron, frowning.

"I'm certainly not as smart as she is, but I know her and I'm not blind. Since Arrain Mhor, there is something between you and her. At first I thought she had found another friend in you, and somewhere, selfishly, it made me feel better, because I felt less guilty about not having enough time to hang out with her. And then, I quickly realized that it wasn't that. The way she looks at you…" He left his sentence unfinished, observing Sirius' glance going back to Hermione.

Although they had separated on good terms and remained very close, it wasn't easy for Ron to talk about the feelings of the one he had once loved. "I don't understand, Sirius. That night, when we were all at the restaurant to celebrate the motion, we all saw what nearly happened and… And then you evaporated. Never again at Grimmauld Place, never again with her. Always with the excuse of your work… And I think that, in a strange way, I persuaded myself that it was _my_ fault, that maybe what Hermione and me had lived prevented you from… I don't do not know… But that's not it, is it?" When his only answer was Sirius' silence, Ron knew he was right. "It's _you_."

At that moment, Sirius stood up abruptly, surprising Ron who immediately rose up reflexively. Following the direction of Sirius' gaze, he saw Hermione, visibly upset, hurriedly leaving the room, under Aunt Muriel's astonishingly pitying look.

As Sirius looked petrified, Ron pushed him gently, whispering, "If you don't go now after her, you'll lose her." Sirius turned to him, a response obviously on his lips, but again Ron stopped him from speaking: "Be a Gryffindor, Sirius. Rush f—"

"Rush first, ask questions later," Sirius added mechanically. "I taught this one to Harry, and it's time for me to practice what I'm preaching," He concluded as he rushed to the door through which Hermione had gone.


	15. Chapter 15 prompt here and now

A/N: Beta love to the wonderful Roman's sundial! Many many thanks to her for her editing skills and commitment to this story!

I would like to thank the kind souls that have followed, favourited and reviewed this story. As it was my first time publishing a multi-chaptered story in english, I was really anxious and all your reviews were wonderfully encouraging and kind. I tried to answer each one of them but in case I missed some : Many many many thanks for your kind reviews.

Chapter 15: Prompt #6 - Here and Now

Unsurprised not to find Hermione anywhere at the wedding venue, Sirius immediately Apparated to Grimmauld Place, where he knew he was certain to find her.

When he arrived, he went straight to the kitchen, somehow knowing she would be there. He pushed the door open but remained on the threshold for a moment, watching her. Seated at the table, visibly lost in thoughts, she seemed to wait for the kettle to whistle.

Sirius was perplexed. What could have happened for her to withdraw like this while her best friend's wedding was in full swing?

Everyone knew Aunt Muriel as vindictive, but Hermione wasn't normally the kind of person who was destabilized by a few sarcastic remarks. What could the old hag have said to hurt her so?

Listening to his pounding heart rather than his head—which was telling him that the timing might not be right for what he had planned—Sirius joined her and sat down beside her.

Hearing him approaching, she ran her hands over her cheeks before putting them on the table, wringing her fingers, but when she looked up to him, her eyes red-rimmed, Sirius' fears were confirmed: she had cried, she had been wounded.

"What happened?" he asked, reaching out to cover Hermione's hands with one of his.

But immediately she got up, heading for the stove as if to pick up the kettle even though it had not yet started whistling.

Sirius sighed. He deserved it, he knew it. Ever since that day at the restaurant, he had moved away from Hermione, had stopped having affectionate or even friendly gestures for her like he had had before… He couldn't decently reproach her now for moving away from him after he had been so cold.

Determined to be forgiven for his failings, he got up and followed her, planting himself beside her. She was tense, and more than that, she seemed almost fearful, her hands shaking as she grabbed a tin of tea, as if Sirius' very presence made her nervous.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked, growing concerned by her attitude. Aunt Muriel's jaunts couldn't explain Hermione's visible discomfort. _Or rather, it couldn't be all due to Aunt Muriel's bitterness_ , Sirius thought, remembering the old woman's sorry look when Hermione left her.

"Nothing." Hermione shrugged, her eyes still on the kettle. "I just drank a little too much champagne."

"Don't lie to me!" Sirius hissed between his teeth. He knew her too well. The alcohol, he was sure of it, was the last of the reasons for her behavior.

He spoke without thinking, reacting instinctively to Hermione's lie, and he immediately regretted his impulsiveness when he realized that, instead of pushing the young woman to tell the truth, his injunction only irritated her further and she exploded.

"Don't try to boss me around!" she snapped, removing the kettle from the fire before turning to Sirius, glaring at him. "Who do you think you are? Do you think you can come here and start questioning me like that?"

"Because I'm your—"

"And do not tell me it's because we're friends, Sirius. Not now," she interrupted him immediately. Wrestling visibly to control the tears that threatened to overwhelm her once again, she added, "Go away, please. Go away," before turning back to the countertop where she began to prepare her tea.

Sirius didn't know what to think anymore. Hermione seemed both angry at him and so sad. Now he realized how his attitude since what had happened in the restaurant must have hurt her. To protect himself from a rejection he was sure was coming, he had hurt her by taking away any evidence of his friendship.

Deeply inspired, he reached within himself to gather all his determination. He wasn't going to let her escape. It was too bad if he was being ridiculous, if she laughed to his face—or even worse, if she felt pity for him, but he was going to tell her what was in his heart.

"No," he answered firmly as he approached her, so close that he could feel the scent of the orchid still sitting behind her ear. She ignored him, continuing her task, head down, as if he did not exist. "I will not repeat the same mistake twice. I was wrong, Hermione. I… I thought I could protect myself by going away, but I was torturing myself and I hurt you too, and I regret it."

She stopped suddenly, but didn't look up. "The truth is, I'm in love with you, Hermione," he confessed, swallowing to try to relax the knot in his throat.

An eternity seemed to pass. Hermione didn't move. Sirius didn't know if it was the stupor or the horror that had turned the young woman into a statue. Slowly, he heard her take a long, jerky breath and then exhale deeply.

"Why must you be so stubborn?" she asked, as if thinking aloud. She turned to him slowly and Sirius took a step back, giving her a little space so that she wouldn't feel overwhelmed by his presence, but not turning away at any moment. "I don't know what to do, Sirius," she said. "I feel lost, confused. I never believed in destiny, in divination… And I don't know what to do."

Sirius frowned. What was she talking about? He told her that he was in love with her, and all she said was that she didn't believe in divination?

"What are you talking about Hermione? What are you not telling me?" he asked, whispering almost, afraid to scare her.

"I'm talking about Scabior, about you and me," she answered immediately. Sighing deeply, she went to sit by the table and, with a gesture, invited Sirius to do the same. Once he was seated, as close to her as he could, she spoke. "I don't know what took over me… Well… I went to greet Aunt Muriel. I know it's silly of me since she started talking to me about how thin my ankles are, my hair too curly… You know her…" She trailed off, an amused smile at the memory gracing her lips. It faded soon as she continued, "Arthur once confided in me that he suspected that Aunt Muriel's exceptional longevity was linked to the experiments that she had carried out when she was an Unspeakable at the Ministry."

Sirius's eyes widened. He had never suspected that the old shrew could have even worked, much less as an Unspeakable, but he said nothing, silently asking Hermione to continue her story, even though he had not no idea of where she was heading. "Well… I thought that Muriel could help me in my research on the spell Scabior said he had cast on me."

Sirius stiffened immediately. This was it! He understood now: Hermione was crying when he arrived because she must have discovered that she really _was_ linked somehow to Scabior because of this evil spell. He closed his eyes for a moment, painfully swallowing the bitterness to see the one he loved escape him.

"Muriel knew that spell," Hermione confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Scabior thought this spell would tie his soul to mine, but he didn't fully understand it. He… He managed to create some kind of link, like a bridge between his soul and mine, that's how he always knew where to find me… But the spell is much older and so much powerful than just that and…" She paused, as if she didn't know how to explain.

Sirius felt like his heart was going to explode. Scabior hadn't managed to tie his soul to Hermione's… So maybe there was some hope… But immediately, Hermione's still palpable distress made him come back to reality. "And what, Hermione?" he asked, trying as much as he could to control his impatience.

"It's an old spell intended to reunite soulmates," she whispered, as if she was ashamed to use such overused words.

Sirius suddenly realised the implication of what she had just confessed. He was wrong to believe Ron and allow himself into thinking that Hermione could return his feelings, because Scabior had cast this spell years ago and she had a soulmate, and… Suddenly, Sirius's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. How was Hermione not already reunited with her soulmate when the spell had been cast over ten years ago? Was her soulmate dead?

As he was about to speak, when Hermione resumed her story. "Now, I have to admit to you that I hid something from you." She felt him tense, but he said nothing. "The day when… when Scabior and Lestrange came to Grimmauld, when you told me about what you remembered about the Veil… The smell you described, I recognised it… Because it's my favourite tea."

Sirius opened his mouth, but she interrupted him with a small gesture. She mustn't stop now, it said, otherwise she wouldn't have the courage to tell him the truth. "At the moment, I didn't care, I didn't even think about it until tonight. But Aunt Muriel's explanations allowed me to put all the pieces of the jigsaw into place and I understood. That smell behind the Veil, that latent feeling that told me something was missing, that I missed someone, the nights when I always woke up at 2:30 in the morning as if in response to a call… That _peace_ that I have found since you were here, what I feel for you…"

Finally raising her face to Sirius' who seemed to have understood what her story implied, and was as stunned as she was, Hermione finally added, "Scabior has drawn my soulmate to me, but… but it took him ten years to join me because he had fallen behind the Veil."

His gaze still locked in Hermione's, Sirius swallowed hard. He was just stunned. So many thoughts jostled in his mind. He and Hermione were soulmates. She said she had feelings for him. Scabior's spell had pulled him out of the Veil. It all seemed so… Huge.

But as she looked at him, obviously shocked at what she had just said, Sirius thought that Hermione's first words were those of reason. He had never believed in fate and all that. It wasn't some spell and some coincidences that would change that. Sweeping all the evidence that pointed that Hermione and he were meant for each other, Sirius took her face in his hands.

"I don't care about spells, or Scabior, or what Aunt Muriel says. I don't even care how I escaped that damn drapery. What I know, and what matters to me, is that I love you, and that here, now, I want to be with you. What do you think about that?"

With teeth tucked into her lower lip as always when she was stressed, Hermione stared at him, obviously looking into Sirius' gray eyes for proof of his sincerity.

Whatever she read in his eyes must be response enough for her because soon a huge smile was on her lips and she nodded before whispering, "Me too. I'm in love with you, Sirius, I—"

But she didn't finish as Sirius's lips crashed on hers in a kiss that sealed their promise.


End file.
